


I Know Just What You'd Say

by Santaanawinds



Series: What The Fuck [1]
Category: Bandom, fun.
Genre: Break Up, Crossdressing, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Lipstick, Other, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 06:53:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11938668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Santaanawinds/pseuds/Santaanawinds
Summary: The year after aim & ignite, fun. move to New York City for 6 months to try to find inspiration for their next album, and yeah, they need a drummer, too. It's shaping up to be an amazing summer. Then everything kind of spirals after Nate moves in with Rachel and Andrew finds someone's lipstick at his place. This could either be a highlights reel or a lowlights one, but one thing's for sure-it's going to be memorable.





	I Know Just What You'd Say

So, here they were. Nate, Andrew and Jack, sipping on beer playing video games while Nate explains whose bra that REALLY was on Andrew’s towel rack. None of this would even be happening if Andrew hadn’t volunteered his apartment for rehearsals one day. They were all in New York for the summer, living, working, playing, and trying to find some drummers to audition. It should have been fun.  
  
1.  
Andrew found a lipstick someone had dropped and thought it was Emily’s. ‘Nope. Maybe it’s Rachel’s, she was there.’ Andrew didn’t have Rachel’s address, so he went over to Nate’s.  
‘Hey,’ he said when the door swung open, ‘I found this at my place after rehearsal. I thought it was Emily’s, but she said it was Rachel’s.’ Nate bites his tongue instead of saying it’s not her color.  
‘…Yeah.’ Nate takes it and slips it into his pocket.  
  
That should have been the end of it, but Andrew stopped by a couple days later. When he heard the knock on the door, Nate grabbed a tissue and swiped at his mouth, trying to hide the evidence before he answered. There was another knock, so he balled the tissue up and threw it away.  
  
‘Hey, Dostman, what are you doing here?’ Andrew holds up a six pack.  
‘The game, remember?’ That’s right. The basketball! They were going to watch together. He picks up his cellphone to order a pizza.  
‘Can’t believe I forgot.’ When he hangs up, Andrews taken two bottles from the pack and stuffed the rest in Nate’s fridge. It’s only a small apartment, so the bedroom isn’t separate from the living room and you can see the lipstick still sitting on the dressing table.  
  
‘Rachel’s going to be pissed if you let that dry out. Girls are always saying how expensive it is.’ It’s an innocent comment, but it has Nate on edge, swiping at his mouth with the back of his hand as he goes to deal with the offending item.  
‘It’s only a drugstore brand.’ He twists the tube, caps it and drops it in the fridge door.  
‘So it won’t melt.’ He explains. It’s about 1000 degrees in here, because no one in New York appreciates air conditioning, so there’s nothing weird about that comment…Nate hopes.  
‘How do you know so much about lipstick? Honestly, as soon as a girl starts talking about makeup, it goes in one ear and out the other.’ Nate cracks open his bottle and sits down.  
‘Listening to girls is like sex to them.’ It’s the kind of stereotypical crass comment he’d throw out in a song. ‘Listen long enough and…’  
‘Okay, I get it, thank you, Casanova.’ There’s a beat, then, ‘For a second I thought you were going to tell me you wear it. That would just be super weird.’  
‘Yeah, what the hell, man?’ Nate looks away awkwardly and swigs his drink. Andrew pretends not to notice the smudge of color around his mouth.  
  
He goes home after the game and looks it up on the internet. He finds a lot of stuff on being transgender, but he’s not sure if that fits. Then he finds something on cross dressing and remembers a day when they went into a lingerie store for laughs and Nate tried on that cheerleading costume. He keeps reading, though, and everything he reads says more or less the same thing: If you care about them, be supportive. Especially if you found out accidentally. Ask about their pronouns and respect them. They have rehearsals and a couple of shows for the next week, but then Andrew comes over again and spends a good 20 minutes trying to figure out what to say and how to say it.  
  
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have opened my mouth.’  
‘What about?’ He’s going to have to be more specific. They spend a lot of time busting each other’s balls.  
‘The lipstick. It was yours, wasn’t it? I didn’t mean to be a jerk.’  
‘It’s okay. I probably would have done the same thing.’ Except he wouldn’t, and they both knew that.  
‘It’s not; I shouldn’t have given you a hard time.’  
‘I’m over it.’ Nate shrugged.  
‘Hey, umm, what do I call you? Like when I’m talking about you. Do I say, he, or she, or?’  
‘He. I just like to wear lipstick.’ Nate smiles coyly and turns the tv on, searches for the channel the game is on.  
  
‘You should. If you want to.’ The words rush out of his mouth before he can stop them. _Shut up,_ Andrew admonishes himself, _stop talking. You’re not helping._  
‘Like now?’ Nate’s brow furrows.  
‘Yeah?’ It comes out like a question. Why not?  
‘Okay.’ Nate goes to the fridge to retrieve it. No one’s ever known before. Okay, so he thinks maybe Sam suspected, but he never said anything. Now Andrew knows, and he’s encouraging it? He sits on the couch gripping the cold plastic tube. He’s shaking slightly and at first doesn’t notice as Andrew takes it from his hand, uncaps it, and twists the bottom. It looks so small in his hand.  
  
‘Open.’ Andrew grips his chin and Nate tilts his head back a little, mouth in an ‘o’. Andrew swipes it onto his lips, bottom first, then the top, leaning a little into Nate’s space until he’s finished, then he pulls back, twists the tube and caps it again while Nate rubs his lips together and blots the excess on a tissue. Andrew smiles at him and he smiles back. There’s nothing else to be said, so they watch tv and order Chinese like it’s any other game day. It’s nice to know that Andrew doesn’t hate him for it.  
  
2.  
Soon after that game, he moved in with Rachel for the summer, in a slightly bigger apartment across town. She was out for the night at a friend’s place working on something or other that needed to be finalized for work soon, so Nate decided to get dolled up and go out for a drink. Wig, makeup, stuffed bra, girly top, skirt, heels. He looked damned good if he said so himself. Felt even better.  
  
He headed out to this bar off 75 that he’d gone to a couple of times now and took up his usual seat on the end of the bar. It was maybe ten o clock when the place started to fill up. He nursed each drink for a good hour, not really wanting to go home and not knowing of anywhere good to push on to. Plus the bar snacks here were good, unlike the crap they served at the bar on his old corner. Not that he’d be seen dead there dressed like this.  
  
It was half one when some guy sidled up next to him, groped him and got Anna(the barmaid)’s attention by clicking his fingers as she was making her way back down the bar.  
‘Hey, missy, over here. I’ll have another and one for the lady.’  
‘No thanks, I can buy my own.’ He shouldn’t have opened his mouth. That much was for sure. He got a glance at the look on the guy’s face and knew he was in trouble.  
‘You’re no woman! You’re a faggot in a skirt, you sick fuck.’  
‘No, I’m a guy in a skirt whose ass you didn’t mind groping two minutes ago.’ One day, he swore, he would learn to shut his mouth. But that day would not be today, and now he better be ready for a fight. It was coming, like it or not.  
  
He didn’t see the first punch, or the second, but he certainly saw as his face got slammed, hard, into the bar, again and again, and again. He heard Anna yelling at the guy that he’d better get the fuck out before she called the cops on his ass and then someone else calling last drinks, and then it was over. The guy backed off and Nate almost fell to the floor. Anna walked around the bar and grabbed him.  
‘Okay, come with me, you’re alright. Just let me get you cleaned up.’ She took him into the back room, sat him down and found a first aid kid, and another woman appeared with some ice.  
‘He’s done a number on you. What’s your name?’  
‘Nate.’  
‘Hi, Nate. I’m Jane. Anna over there was an ambulance officer-a paramedic-back in the UK, you’re in good hands.’ All he could do was nod, he was in pain and he could feel his eye swelling and the blood dripping down his chin. He couldn’t even appreciate for a moment the two cute British chicks fawning over him for the small price of getting his face rearranged. He took the ice and held it to his eye while Anna cleaned up the blood, putting a butterfly clip on his lip just until it dried.  
  
‘There’s no way around it, that’s going to hurt. Did you pass out?’  
‘I don’t think so.’ Maybe for a second, if that.  
‘What day is it?’  
‘Thursday.’  
‘Whose the prime minister?’  
‘We have a president.’  
‘Right, USA. Who’s the president?’  
‘Obama.’ She shone a small penlight into his eyes.  
‘You dizzy?’  
‘Only a little.’  
‘Nauseous?’  
‘Barely.’  
‘I’d say you’ll be fine, probably just a mild concussion. But you’ll want to stay awake for a few hours or have somebody wake you up every so often. If you start feeling worse, see your GP-I mean, your doctor.’  
‘Got it, thanks.’ Anna leaves to handle the bar.  
  
‘Is there someone I could call for you?’ Jane asks.  
‘Uhh, Andrew.’ He hands over his phone. She finds the contact and hits the call button.  
‘Hi there, is this Andrew? My name’s Jane. I’m with your friend Nate. He’s a bit banged up, but he’ll be okay. He probably shouldn’t be alone though, could you come and pick him up?’ She tells him the address and hangs up.  
‘He’ll be here soon. Have a drink while you wait. Non-alcoholic of course. You’ll have enough of a headache in the morning.’ She sits with him and waits until Andrew shows up at two thirty.  
  
They’re closed and when Andrew runs in, fresh from a party on the other side of town, it’s apparent he’s run at least part of the way.  
‘We’re closed.’  
‘Someone called about my friend.’ Anna puts down the glass she’s polishing and jerks a thumb towards the back room.  
‘Go on in.’ He does and his eyes immediately scan the dimmed room for Nate. When he sees him he crouches in front of him, hands on his shoulders.  
‘Oh my god, are you okay? What happened?’  
‘I’m fine.’ Nate croaks out, eyes gleaming with tears. ‘Some dude hit on me and…’ Andrew wraps his arms around Nate and lets him cry into his shirt.  
‘It’s ok, I got you, it’s ok. I’ll take you home.’ When Nate’s pulled himself together, Andrew thanks Jane for looking after him.  
‘Not at all. We’re sorry you got hassled in the first place.’  
‘It’s not your fault. That guy was just an asshole.’ Nate reassures her.  
‘Well he’s banned for life, so, we hope you’ll feel comfortable coming back here. Drinks on the house next time, too.’  
‘Thanks. We should get going. Night.’  
‘Night.’ On their way out past the bar, Anna makes a comment about how lucky Nate is to have such a loving partner. Neither of them correct her.

Out on the street, Andrew starts walking in the direction of Nate’s.  
‘She doesn’t know, I can’t, I can’t tell her.’ He’s forgotten Rachel’s out. Without a word, Andrew changed direction towards his place. They’re walking through a bad neighborhood about halfway to Andrew’s when he sees that Nate is shivering.  
‘Here, you must be freezing.’ He unzips his jacket and puts it around Nate’s shoulders. Nate slips his arms into it and he’s looking down to zip it up when Andrew throws an arm around him and whispers urgently in his ear.  
‘Don’t look up, don’t speak, just keep walking.’ If Nate had looked up, he’d have seen the group of guys watching them closely, leering at Nate. He heard the cat calls and whistles though, and kept his head down, trying to look as small and feminine as possible to not get his ass kicked for the second time that night.  
  
They soon got past that part of town and left those guys far behind them. If Nate noticed that Andrew left his arm around his shoulders, he didn’t say. Nate was mostly just grateful that seeing him dressed head to toe like a woman wasn’t enough to scare Andrew off. He thought he’d gotten lucky with the lipstick as it was. Maybe he needed to believe in people more. Or even just Dostman.  
  
3.  
Rachel was out, wouldn't be home until late. Eleven, twelve, one am kind of late. Plenty of time. Nate had gotten dressed up again and was in her walk-in closet, borrowing a dress. He was also wearing heels and dancing to Britney playing on the old-school boom box Rachel insisted on keeping around, even though it was twenty fucking ten. The click clack of his shoes on the hardwood and the way his voice climbed with hers during 'Toxic' was probably enough to explain why he didn't hear her key in the lock, the thud of all her work supplies being dropped somewhere and the turning of the doorknob into the bedroom. He certainly heard her scream.  
  
'Nate, what the fuck?! Are you wearing my dress? Oh my GOD, you're a freak!' He'd turned around at the sound of her voice and she'd caught a look at his full face of makeup. He slammed down the "pause" button.  
'What the fuck, Nathaniel? Of all the weird, fucked up shit. Get out of here. Go! Get out!' She locked herself in the bathroom crying when she was finished tearing shreds off Nate's heart. He heard her calling Nattie to come pick her up and he prayed she wouldn't tell. He still had to work with the guy...unless he quit. That was a problem for another time. He needed to get out of here.  
  
Quicker than any costume change, he unbuckled his heels and slipped out of Rachel's dress, taking his wig off and grabbing a shirt and some jeans out of the dresser. He stops to glance at a photo of the two of them from a night in 2006. He was filming the format DVD and they were wearing clothes she'd made. He remembers it was her birthday and she'd looked so beautiful. That had been the night he fell in love.  
'I'm going,' he calls out softly, tears running down his face. 'I love you.' This time he whispers and he knows she can't hear him. He grabs his wallet and keys and doesn't look back. If he had, he might have noticed her watching him, mouthing 'I loved you, too.' Maybe it was better that he didn't. The past tense would have broken his heart.  
  
Once outside, he ran and ran and it didn't even matter where he was going. He just had to keep moving so the only burn he'd feel was in his legs and lungs, not his heart and his eyes, still spilling over, but slower than before. It shouldn't have surprised him when the neighborhoods became familiar and he ran out of steam on Andrew's doorstep. Where else would he go?  
  
He couldn't go to Jack because he was her brother, he couldn't go to Emily because she was a girl, they always stuck together, and he couldn't go to Nattie because he was with her. Okay, so maybe he just wanted to believe that he would have gone somewhere, anywhere else first. Why'd it bother him so much anyway? He was hurting and Andrew was his friend. It's that simple.  
  
When Andrew drags himself out of bed and opens the door, he's surprised to see Nate there, face smudged with rivulets of black gunk, lips painted still. It's obvious he walked or ran the whole way, and Andrew thinks it's a miracle that he didn't get beaten up walking through that neighborhood looking the way he does right now.  
'Oh shit. Are you okay? Come in.' He stands aside and lets Nate pass him into the hall. He sits his friend down on the couch and gets him a glass of water.  
'What happened?' Nate takes a breath, drinks half the water.  
  
'Rachel, Rachel came home. Early. She wasn't supposed to be there. I had that fucking boom box turned up and I didn't hear her come in. I was in her closet and...she was so angry. Worse, she..."What the fuck, Nathaniel?" She called Nattie so I split.' He doesn't tell Andrew that she threw him out anyway. That's just too humiliating. 'It was so much worse than that night at the bar. I didn't have to face him in the morning. She's probably going to dump me. I don't blame her.'  
'Maybe things will calm down in the morning. She was probably just shocked.'  
'Of all the weird, fucked up shit.' Nate scoffs.  
'It's not fucked up. It's just you.'  
'I'm quoting.'  
'Rachel said that?' Andrew looks shocked and sad all at once.  
'Yeah, and she's right. I should have at least known better than to get caught.' Nate's a little taken aback when Andrew speaks gently.  
'You're not doing anything wrong.' He doesn't know how to respond. When he's with Andrew he doesn't feel that way. It's everywhere else that he feels wrong and broken. Maybe Andrew's as fucked up as he is but has the good sense not to let it show.  
  
At any rate, he's not complaining when Andrew pulls him closer and strokes him comfortingly. He doesn't realize he's crying until he notices Andrew's shirt get wet. He pulls back and sees the black stain on his shirt. _Oh shit. I forgot I was wearing that._  
'Ah, crap. Sorry, I ruined your shirt.' Andrew looks down.  
'It'll wash out. It's okay.' It's just a shirt.  
'Sorry.' Nate gets up and goes to scrub his face clean in the bathroom. He looks like a nightmare. Black and pink smudged fucking everywhere. There's a knock on the door.  
'There's make up remover under the sink.' He doesn't know why or when Andrew procured it, but he mutters out thanks and grabs the bottle and a dark towel, anyway.  
  
Ten minutes later, every trace of it is gone and he sheepishly emerges from the bathroom. Andrew's yawning on the couch.  
'Oh, sorry, I'm keeping you up...speaking of, can I crash here?'  
'Sure. Let's go to bed. I'll find you something to wear.' Andrew gets up and makes his way to the bedroom. Nate follows, and just before he can change in front of Andrew (whose already thrown his stained t-shirt in the hamper), he feels something slip down his arm and panics, hiding in the bathroom. He gets the sweats on fine, but then he unbuttons his shirt and can't breathe because if Andrew finds out about what's he's wearing under it, it'll push him past his limit.  
'Nate? You okay in there?'  
'No. No, I'm fine.' _Ican'tbreatheIcan'tbreatheIcan'tbreathe._  
'Are you sure? Nate?' There's no answer, just the panicked sound of Nate gasping for breath that seems just out of reach. 'I'm coming in okay?' But it's not really a question, and the doorknob turns. Nate pulls his shirt tighter around himself and turns away from the door, all the while still trying to catch his breath.  
'I can't-I can't breathe. I can't breathe.' He feels like he's dying.  
  
'Whoa, hey, you're okay. You're okay. Just sit down, right here, you're okay. Just follow me. Breathe in, hold it. Breathe out.'  
'I can't.' The rim of the bathtub is cold and hard. At least that gives him something to focus on.  
'Just try it. Breathe in, hold it. Breathe out, hold it a little longer. Breathe in...' he continues this way for the next few minutes, rubbing Nate's back until the adrenaline has died down and he can breathe without the coaching. He's so tired that he slumps against Andrew, arms still folded to keep his shirt closed.  
'What happened?'  
'I can't tell you.'  
'Yes, you can. Whatever it is.'  
'It's too far. It'll push you over the edge. You'll hate me like she does.'  
'I could never hate you, Nate. Not unless you like, killed someone. Did you kill someone?' Andrew pretends to consider that as a possibility.  
'No.' There's a smile in his voice.  
'Then it can't be that bad.' There's a pointed silence from Nate. 'Try me.' So Nate does.  
'I didn't want you to see it, and then I got stuck and I panicked.'  
'Got stuck in what? Your shirt?' Nate shakes his head and takes his shirt off. Whether Andrew hates him or not, the damn thing's getting tight and he needs help getting out of it.  
  
'That's it?' Andrew takes a second to notice the scarlet lace against Nate's skin. He felt it before rubbing Nate's back and didn't think anything of it. He already knows Nate likes to wear girl's clothes. Was there an expected response here?  
'You don't hate me? You don't finally think I'm a freak?'  
'No. You need a hand getting out of that?' Nate nods.  
'Why?'  
'’Coz I'll help you. Turn around.' Nate does as he's told and sits with his back to Andrew.  
'No, why don't you think I'm a freak? I dress up like a girl because it makes me feel pretty.' And feminine, and it's fun and sometimes it just feels right. He'd like to go on stage dressed up, but he's not a drag queen, and that's how they'd see him.  
  
'This is a complicated bra strap. Maybe you should have watched her take it off first.' Andrew ignores the question because he doesn't know how else to tell Nate that he'll never think he's a freak.  
'It's not hers.'  
'Right, well, do you know how I'm supposed to-there, got it.' Nate pulls the straps down his shoulders and hangs it over the towel rack in the corner.  
'Oh, hey, that reminds me. You left this here.' Andrew digs through one of the drawers and produces one of Nate's lipsticks. It must have fallen out of his pocket. He often wore it around Andrew, just because it was nice to not have to keep it a total secret anymore.  
'Thanks, I thought I lost it.' It's his favorite shade, too. A pinkish red that he picked out in a drugstore far, far away from his apartment.  
'Nah, it fell down the back of the couch. I was looking for change for a pizza and found it.' Nate puts it on, just because he can, and follows Andrew out of the bathroom.  
  
There's nothing weird about them sharing a bed. Everyone in the band has shared a bed with one (or two) of the others a thousand times before, so it's second nature to slide in beside Andrew, even with his fingers wound into his shirt. Nate's incredibly cuddly, so anyone who shares a bed with him on tour knows what he's going to be like. Andrew turns into the hug and pulls the blankets up. They're asleep pretty quickly.  
  
In the morning, Nate wakes up early, kisses Andrew on the cheek, and gets dressed. He washes his face, trying to wake up, and goes out for breakfast, knowing that there's a band meeting soon with Jack and he's supposed to bring the food. He gets back to Andrew's at the same time as Jack, who, thankfully, remembered Nate's coffee order "anything. Just make it huge". They knock and can't keep the grins off their faces when Andrew opens the door with lipstick on his cheek.  
'Good morning to you, too. Am I the only one who forgot about this meeting?' Andrew scratches his head.  
'Yeah, but it's only us, so.' Nate tries to rearrange his face to something neutral.  
'We brought coffee.' Jack's still smiling to himself as Andrew lets them in. Not five minutes later, Nate's hearts in his throat as Jack emerges from the bathroom, teasing.  
'Did you have a girl here last night? Finally lose your virginity?'  
'What? No. And I'm not a virgin.' Andrews totally confused.  
'Yeah, Jack, your mom already took care of that.' Nate jokes.  
'She left you a souvenir in the bathroom,' there's a pause in which Nate thinks he might actually die this time as he remembers the bra he left on the towel rack, 'Oh, and you got a little something on your face.' Andrew's brow furrows and Jack wipes at his own cheek. Andrew brings his hand up to his face and feels the lip print he didn't know was there. He tries to rub it away while Jack laughs his ass off, but gives up and goes to wash it off.  
  
'Aww, our little Andrew's finally growing up.' Jack teases.  
'He's older than you, asshole.' Nate quips back, punching him on the shoulder. 'And at least he's getting laid.'  
'Who's getting laid?' Andrew walks back in.  
'You, apparently.' Later on, Nate would throw an apologetic look at Andrew, and he'd catch it, and all would be fine. Right now though, Jack was in one of his 'I'm a comic genius' moods that really meant he was borderline being a dick, and they had to get through that first. Nate dragged his feet going home that night. He didn't want to see Rachel and he didn't want to know what else she thought.  
'Sorry about Jack. He might've let it go if I hadn't forgotten that fucking bra.'  
'It was pretty funny though.'  
'Yeah.' Just then, there was a knock on the door. Jack had come back for something.  
'Hey, where were you last night? Rachel called me. Said you took off without your phone and she was worried about you. I texted her this morning and told her you were fine.' Crap. He'd talked to Rachel? What else had she said? So far, nothing true.  
'I walked around all night. Tried to write.'  
'Did you?' They needed some new material.  
'No.' But he did have some ideas for a song now, not that it would ever see the light of day.  
'Ok then. Talk to her, would you?' Jack didn't have a clue what he was asking.  
'Sure. I'm heading there now.'  
'Night.'  
'Night.' Nate turns and salutes Andrew as though he's a captain going down with the ship. Andrew salutes back and then Nate leaves, dragging his feet and trying to take as long as possible.  
  
He needn't have bothered. He comes home to an empty house and a note on the fridge "Be home in a couple days. I'm staying with Nattie if you need me-Rachel". He decided to ring her.  
'Hey it's me, don't hang up.'  
'What do you want, Nate?'  
'Why did you tell Jack I left? You threw me out!' He hears the sound of a door closing and a shower being turned on.  
'Did you want me to tell him the truth? I was worried about you.'  
'Bullshit. You called me a freak and told me to get out.'  
'I WAS. This isn't like you, I don't understand where all of this is coming from. You've never done this stuff before.'  
'I've always done this stuff. Look, will you please come home so we can talk about this?'  
'Tomorrow. I need more time.'  
'Okay.'  
'Okay, bye, Nate.'  
'I love you.' The phone is silent. He thinks she probably just didn't hear him.  
  
He packs his girl clothes, wig, and heels into the suitcase he keeps under the bed and tells Rachel is filled with old junk so she won't look inside. He throws in all of the makeup, bar the lipstick in his pocket, closes it and kicks it back underneath. He knows it's already over, so he hugs her pillow tight and cries himself to sleep.  
  
The next night, she comes home and they talk in circles, never getting anywhere but a dead end. She apologizes for everything she called him and for kicking him out, but frankly, the damage is done. He can't be with someone who knows and doesn't want to. He'd rather keep it from them forever. It had always worked before. And she can't be with someone who hides something so huge, and then expects her to be cool with it.  
'I do love you though.'  
'I know.' But does she? It doesn't look it.  
'No, like I really, really love you. That's why I never said...'  
'I get it. I loved you too. But let’s face the facts here. We can't work. Not after this.' He gets it, he does. But it hurts. She decides to move out until the lease is up next month.  
'No, I'll...I'll go. You love this place.'  
‘Where are you gonna go?’  
‘I’ll stay at Andrew’s or something, it’ll be fine. We’re only here a few more weeks, anyway. Then we’re out in Utah, so…’  
‘Okay. I am sorry, Nate.’  
‘Me, too.’ He hugs her tightly, just for a moment, and lets go. He sits on the fire escape writing that song until the sun’s coming up and then he calls Andrew.  
‘Hey. Can I crash with you ‘til Utah?’  
‘Didn’t go well?’  
‘No. It’s over. I gotta move out.’  
‘Yeah, sure, I’ll grab the van this afternoon.’  
‘Thanks.’ He went inside to catch a few hours of sleep on the couch before he started packing up his stuff. He put his clothes in a duffel bag, took the suitcase from under the bed, and packed a couple boxes of stuff like his records and play station. The whole ‘living out of a suitcase’ thing really worked in his favor at times like these. Soon Jack and Andrew pulled up with the van and it didn’t take long to drag it all downstairs. Thankfully Jack wanted to be kept out of the details, so there was no reason to talk.  
  
4.  
That too, could so easily have been the end of it. No one else needed to know. Rachel hadn’t said anything, and she didn’t seem to have plans to. They all got on with things in New York. They found a drummer, this guy called Will who was in a band the format once toured with. They had just a few more days, maybe a week, and then they were out of this hell hole relatively unscathed. Goddamn Jack for losing his fucking jacket.  
  
They’d been working on a new song (that song from the fire escape-Nate had decided to claim it was pure fiction. It was too good a song to write off), and they’d been discussing plans for that night.  
‘I’ve got a show.’ Jack reminds them. Every time he’d disappear for something Steel Train related, Nate would wonder if one day he’d just never come back.  
‘I’m staying home with a good book.’ Andrew says. He’ll probably give up half way and mess around on his flugelhorn for a while, see if he still remembers any of the Anathallo stuff by heart. He’s been missing them lately, but he knows it was for the best. He wouldn’t give up fun. for anything.  
‘We’re going to a show in some smoky basement somewhere with Ra-a friend.’ Nattie says, feeling awkward that he brought up his boss’s ex’s name.  
‘I’m gonna walk the old haunts, see why I was so inspired to write there last time, try to find something to sing. Maybe it’ll even happen before it’s light out.’ Nate can think of a list of songs he’s written about this place. ‘The old haunts’, however, take him past Rachel’s, and when he’s tempted to throw a rock at her window and serenade her, he reminds himself of the last time he did that, and sings ‘dog problems’ under his breath until he gets back to Andrew’s. He makes it through the album twice. He thinks he sings the original lyrics to more than a few of the songs. He doesn’t like the way they glossed over some of the details in the final recordings.  
  
He lets himself in, drinks a glass of water, and notes that Andrew’s already gone to bed. It’s only 9.30. He looks at the couch and thinks he doesn’t want to sleep alone tonight. He raps lightly on the bedroom door.  
‘Hey, Andrew?’  
‘Yeah?’  
‘Can I sleep with you?’  
‘Yeah.’ Nate sheds his shoes and jeans and climbs in next to him.  
‘I remember how I used to write about this place. It didn’t bring her back either.’ He sounded so broken that Andrew couldn’t help but pull him into his arms. They slept wrapped around each other, until Andrew got a call at ten thirty.  
  
‘Andrew speaking.’  
‘It’s me, you dork. I left my jacket at your place.’  
‘Wear another one.’  
‘I can’t. It’s my lucky jacket.’  
‘Come over and get it then. Let yourself in.’ Jack had a spare key.  
‘Thanks.’ He was over in 15 minutes.  
‘Just me.’ He calls quietly. Soon, there’s a knock on Andrew’s bedroom door, and it swings open just a little. Just enough to let a slice of light spill into the room and show that Andrew’s not sleeping alone. His lover stirs, and he pulls the blanket up over her and strokes her hair.  
‘Oh, sorry. I’ve got it. I’m going now.’ Jack whispers into the room.  
‘Night.’ Andrew whispers back.  
‘Night.’ Andrew’s lover throws an arm out across him on top of the blankets, and Jack thinks nothing of the tattoo on her arm until he sees what it is: a blue dog. He pretends not to notice, shuts the door, and bites his lip until he’s out of the apartment and can laugh his ass off freely. Wiping tears from his eyes, he steps out into the cool night air and heads back to the venue.  
  
Two days later, Jack invited them out for a drink. He’d rehearsed his speech a thousand times, and now he actually had to say it.  
‘So, I want you to know that I love you guys, and I’m proud of everything we’ve written together. If the world blows up tomorrow I won’t have any regrets. But, everything’s going to change now, and-‘  
‘Are you leaving us? You are. You’re leaving the band, aren’t you?’ Nate’s hurt, and more than a little pissed off. ‘If this is about me and Rachel, you leaving isn’t going to fix anything, and it’s a really shitty way to get back at me.’  
‘What? No, I’m not leaving. And it’s not about Rachel, but since you mention it, did you leave her ‘coz you’re gay?’  
‘What the fuck?’ What isn’t wrong with that sentence?  
‘Aren’t you?’ Jack asks.  
‘What did she tell you? Don’t answer that. She left me. Besides, I thought you didn’t want to know?’  
‘I don’t. I just-‘  
‘Just what?’ Nate’s angry now.  
‘This isn’t coming out right.’  
‘No shit. How’s it supposed to come out?’  
‘I was saying I know it’s all gonna change, and you jumped down my throat about quitting the band.’  
‘Okay, so, if you’re not quitting, why is everything changing?’ Andrew finally speaks up.  
‘Because I know you two are together now.’ There’s a silence while they wait for him to say ‘just kidding’. It doesn’t come.  
  
‘What?’ Andrew’s trying not to laugh and Nate’s about to fall off his stool.  
‘I saw you two, the other night. You were sleeping together.’  
‘I was upset. He let me sleep in his bed. So what? You’ve done it.’ Nate reasons.  
‘You’ve been really close lately. Like there’s some secret between you two.’  
‘I’m living with him until we can leave this shithole town. No offence.’  
‘I’m from Jersey; none taken. But you’re closer than close. Nattie and Will, that’s close. It’s like they were made for one another. It’s been two days and you’d think they’d never not known one another. You two are on a whole other level.’  
‘No, we’re not. There’s just stuff Andrew knows and you don’t.’ Nate’s feeling defensive. He doesn’t even know why.  
‘Okay, but you haven’t actually said you’re not.’  
‘We’re not.’  
‘Really? But you’ve been in love with him forever.’ Jack’s face clearly says that he didn’t mean to say that, but it’s too late. Nate’s confused.  
‘No, I’m in love with Rachel. Or I was, until she broke my heart.’ But then it clicks. Jack’s not talking about him. He looks at the sheepish way Jack’s rubbing his neck and avoiding Andrew’s eye. Andrew, who looks betrayed and humiliated.  
‘I’m sorry, I honestly thought-‘  
‘You thought wrong.’  
‘Andrew?’ Nate’s shocked.  
‘Don’t. Please. Just don’t say anything.’ Andrew’s never pleaded for anything as long as Nate’s known him.  
‘I’m going to get us another round.’ He says, mostly as an excuse to let Jack grovel without an audience. He takes his time and walks slower than he has to coming back to the table with three glasses in his hands.

‘Well he didn’t, okay? No one knew except you, and I was happy that way.’  
‘I’m sorry. For what it’s worth, I don’t think he hates you. He’s too busy being pissed at me for asking if he’s gay.’  
‘He’s not gay. Look, he loves her, and I just…I really love him and I don’t know where it came from, but it’s there. And I have to live with it. So can we please never mention this again?’  
‘Yeah, sure, I’m sorry.’  
  
Nate cleared his throat as he closed the gap between where he was standing and the table.  
‘Ok, look. I’m not gay, and it doesn’t matter if Andrew is. I-‘  
‘I’m bi, actually. Um, bisexual.’  
‘Really? Good for you.’ Nate flashed him a smile. He knew the courage it took to tell someone something like that.  
‘You finally put a label on it, huh?’ Jack was surprised.  
‘Finally? It’s always been there. I figured if you both know, I might as well come out. But only to you two, okay?’  
‘Sure.’ Nate said. It wasn’t him with the loose lips.  
‘Yeah.’ Jack looked like he felt bad all over again for spilling the beans.  
  
‘Either way, it was still shitty of you to think I’d use Rachel like that. I loved her, okay? I really fucking loved her, and for you to say shit like that, it was a real dick move, Antonoff.’ Jack had never incurred enough of Nate’s wrath to be called by his last name before.  
‘Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. Clearly, I’ve fucked up here, on more than one level.’ Andrew and Nate nodded. They couldn’t disagree. Jack skulled his beer. ‘So I’m gonna go before I make things worse. Love you guys.’ He kissed Andrew on the head and muttered ‘I’m proud of you’ before he left. They let out a joined sigh of exasperation.  
‘That was…’ Nate starts.  
‘Something.’  
‘Yeah.’  
‘I think I’m gonna go home, start packing, catch an early night.’  
‘I’m going to keep drinking until I forget about this.’  
‘See ya.’ Andrew sounded tired as he slipped off his barstool and walked home.  
  
He’d wake up later to get a glass of water and find Nate semi-conscious on the couch. These days when he got drunk, he’d crawl in next to Andrew and they’d both have someone to keep them warm.  
‘Did you sleep on the couch because I’m-’  
‘No. I just didn’t want to take advantage of your feelings and shit.’  
‘You didn’t know, so how could you?’  
‘I was drunk. It made sense at the time.’  
‘You’re not drunk now?’  
‘Maybe a little.’ Andrew sat at Nate’s feet on the couch. ‘I’m sorry.’ Nate sounded sad.  
‘What for?’ He feels bad for Andrew, knowing he feels the way he does for him and can’t change it.  
‘You should love someone who loves you.’  
‘I do.’  
‘No. You should love someone who loves you the way you deserve to be loved.’ _Not like me, I don’t love you right, or enough._ He must be drunker than he thinks because he swears he didn’t say that out loud.  
‘You do. You love me just fine. Even if it’s not the same.’ Nate wants to argue that Andrew shouldn’t settle, not for him, but the pull of sleep is stronger than he is.  
‘Night, Nate.’ Andrew whispers, throwing a blanket over him and going back to bed. He forgets the glass of water he was after.  
  
In the morning, he’s up before Nate, breakfast in the oven (frozen pastries, he needs to empty the freezer), packing boxes and taping them up. ‘Ugh, I feel like hell.’ Nate drags himself over to the faucet to get a glass of water, he drinks it and refills it.  
‘You had an interesting night last night.’ Andrews smiling to himself. Nate winces.  
‘Did I do my Shania Twain impression when I was wasted?’ He does a really good cover of ‘Man, I feel like a woman’ when he’s drunk.  
‘No, but you’re very passionate when you’ve had a drink or six.’  
‘Oh shit, what’d I say?’ He can think of several things he might have said.  
‘You were very concerned about me loving the right person.’ That was how he knew he did. Even if that person didn’t love him back the same way.  
‘Oh, jeez, I’m sorry.’ Nate was totally embarrassed.  
‘No, don’t be, it was cute.’ Nate shakes his head and smiles at Andrew, opening the oven as the timer went off.  
‘See? You even cook breakfast. You’re perfect,’ Nate says, ‘We should set you up a profile. You’d find someone in no time.’  
‘Anonymous online serial killers. No thanks, I’d rather not. I just need to get over this first.’ _Good luck with that,_ Andrew thinks, _It’s been two years and nothing’s changed._  
‘You know, the best way to get over someone is to get under someo-‘  
‘Nate.’ But he’s not angry.  
‘Made you smile.’ Nate’s matches. It’s a beautiful sight in the early morning light streaking through the window. Andrew doesn’t retort and eats his breakfast.  
  
5.  
Things are still tense with Jack the night before they leave, so Nate unpacks the playstation and invites him over for beer. Andrew heads out to pick up dinner from a place downtown.  
‘I should explain something. When I said there’s stuff Andrew knows and you don’t, that’s the stuff that split Rachel and me up. You didn’t want to know, and she really didn’t want to know, and I needed to talk about it.’ Jack nods.  
‘But now you want to tell me?’  
‘Yeah. If Andrew can come out then I can be honest about something too.’  
‘Okay.’  
‘There was no girl. The morning Dostman had lipstick on his face and a bra in the bathroom. There was no girl involved.’  
‘I don’t get it.’  
‘I had just come from Rachel’s. We sort of had a fight because she came home early and found out something she didn’t want to know. I like wearing girls clothes and, and she didn’t get it. So, I crashed here and left it in the bathroom by accident.’  
‘The lipstick?’  
‘I always kiss you guys. I just forgot I was wearing it.’ This was true. He was always the affectionate type.  
‘So you’re just being your usual, cuddly self, and that just happens to coincide with Rachel breaking up with you for dressing in drag?’  
‘It’s not drag. It’s cross dressing. There’s a difference.’  
‘Sorry.’  
‘And there’s no cuddling. Not with Andrew anymore.’ Things had been fine before he knew the guy was in love with him. Now he’d feel like an asshole for snuggling up or kissing him the way he always used to. This wasn’t a problem before he knew.  
‘Sorry. But, you know, I think he’d prefer if you still did those things. Would you want him to change if it was you?’  
‘No.’ But how does he know where the line is? How far is too far? He already knows damn well from that “forgotten” conversation that Andrew’s willing to settle for whatever Nate will give, and he deserves better than that. So much better.  
‘Can I see?’  
‘See what?’  
‘What you look like with lipstick on?’  
‘No photos and no laughing, okay?’  
‘Deal.’ Jack was way too interested. Nate gets up, goes to the fridge and retrieves the tube. It’s red this time. He puts it on with a shaking hand in the mirror, rubs it in and blots with a tissue.  
‘You’re not going to be an asshole about it, are you?’  
‘No, I swear.’ Nate opens the door with a hand over his mouth, thinking he picked the wrong day not to shave.  
‘Have at it.’ He says, expecting Jack to go back on his word of not laughing.  
‘So he knew? How long?’ Jack’s observing Nate with his head tilted, vaguely like a dog.  
‘Since April. He thought Rachel left it here during rehearsal.’  
‘That’s not her color.’  
‘That’s what I almost said. Okay, washing it off now.’  
‘You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.’  
‘Really?’ It seemed more sincere coming from Andrew. ‘Okay.’  
  
Andrew got back not long after that with their food. One last meal from their favorite takeout place before they left. He felt a twinge when he saw Nate wearing lipstick in front of Jack, feeling like he’d lost a thing that was just between them. Mostly he was happy that Nate was more comfortable with himself. He sat on the couch between them, and it was like the first nights here when the band got started-warm and familiar, but new.

 


End file.
